


Delicacy

by goldendeere



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Vaginal Sex, established but complicated relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldendeere/pseuds/goldendeere
Summary: There isn’t a thing about Felix that's delicate. Every edge as sharp as his blade and just as merciless in words. He makes his demands so they are never overlooked, a symptom of the hatred of loss. A sword to his lover’s throat is nothing but a success.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Delicacy

There isn’t a thing about Felix that's delicate. Every edge as sharp as his blade and just as merciless in words. He makes his demands so they are never overlooked, a symptom of the hatred of loss. A sword to his lover’s throat is nothing but a success. The blade glints against the silver moon, and eyes shine wide from the warm torchlight. 

“Got me again.” Sylvain says, ruefully amused.

The sharp point comes away after a second too long.

Unforgiving.

“You’re no better than earlier, it’s hardly worth training with you over a wooden dummy.” He clicks the sword back into the sheath at his hip.

“Ouch,” Sylvain says with a light chuckle chasing behind. “After all the hours you’ve kept me here… no pity.”

“You could make your leave whenever you want. The dummies are just as good company as partners.” Felix clips quickly.

That one makes Sylvain frown, not much, but not unnoticed. 

“Training partners.” Felix adds. The silence lingers as Sylvain stores his weapon, straightening the lances left haphazard at the ground’s edges. Felix’s hand grips the hilt of his sword, not to remove it again. 

“Come to bed.” Felix looks, Sylvain waits by the training grounds exit, hand loosely reached out in beckoning. “It’s late.”

“I know.” He lets go of the hilt and goes right to the other man. “I’m not stupid enough to lose energy like that.”

“I know.”

The chill of spring sets back into their skin as they cool down from training, and walking all the way down the monastery grounds leave’s time for bitter feelings to rise up. Felix isn’t pleased to be in this place again after all this time. The moment he left should have been his last and his bitterness is so familiar as he catches sight of his old room. Sylvain says nothing of warm nostalgia, Felix almost forgets they were walking together he was so unusually quiet. Right now that’s okay. He stops in line with the door he could once again call his own, and there is only a moment's hesitation before he makes to open it.

“Felix.” Sylvain calls gently, just a few steps further down the hall, but is as still as Felix. It is so, so familiar that he’s nearly sucked back in time, and it’s painful. Except Sylvain holds out a hand, and that reminds him of the years passed. It’s not beckoning, just unassuming welcome presented so quietly that it tugs Felix towards it.

Felix does not reach to take his hand in acceptance, he takes the lead and enters Sylvain’s old room ahead of him.

Icy.

Sylvain says not a word as he shuts them in. Felix loosens as their privacy settles, his shoulders drop and he begins sloughing away his outer layers. Sylvain makes quick work of his own, having removed his armor already. He sidles behind the other as he lets his hair down, one arm easily wrapping Felix’s shoulders, and the other his chest. 

It makes him ache, how he still has to fight himself not to push away. It is wrong, he is wrong, but it is Sylvain behind him. It is him. And for that he clutches onto those arms. The swelling in his chest corresponds with the churn of his gut. His mind craves safety in distance, his heart fights it, fingers gripping firmly in defiance of himself. It’s Sylvain.

It always will be.

“You and I, right?” Sylvain’s voice is a feather on his ear. Says it like every trivial movement is a tome of Felix’s mind. His lover reads him like a scholar.

“Yes.” Felix confirms. Sylvain’s hold easily gives way for him to turn between his arms, remaining close to his chest so that their noses almost meet.

“Fe…” a murmur. Palms, always so warm, tuck beneath his dark hair and hold him like what he is not.

Gentle. 

Kisses his lips like they are not vicious. Pulls him to bed like he’s never been hurt by Felix’s cruelty. Picks him up like he’s just a little thing, meant to be held not scorned. He returns each kiss, holding Sylvain’s shoulders till he’s laid down, head cushioned by pillows.

“What say you, my love?” Sylvain asks, ruthless in his own right.

Felix’s lips tighten. “And how many forgotten women have heard just that from you, Sylvain?”

Sylvain’s smile becomes cheeky, and his lips dip under Felix’s jaw. “None so extraordinary as to hear it more than once,” their eyes catch for a meaningful second, “my love.” 

The younger scoffs, turning his head away in exaggerated annoyance, but really it opens more space for Sylvain to tease his neck with pecks. Sylvain’s solid weight rests carefully atop him, the attention he devotes to Felix’s throat drives him up the wall. For all the names Felix can throw— he’s a useless, insatiable pain— Sylvain is exhaustively attentive. If he hadn’t known him his whole life, he’d never trust someone so observant, he’d find it all too suspicious. Infuriating that he’ll always be there to jump ahead when he spots a blade that comes too close, and to relay all the reasons Felix is ever upset like he hadn’t even put the effort into masking them. He always did, but his lifelong friend saw through.

That’s the worst thing about Sylvain, other than adhering to his life like glue, he has senses like a fox. He’s as horribly sly as one in bed, too. Listens to every breath and eases back when Felix gasps. He leans in and sucks when his lungs waver, knowing just the right moment that his fronts are lowered so that Felix will cry out. Felix groans, low and frustrated, but is mistaken for pleasure as Sylvain groans back, nipping carefully. Felix sighs impatiently and threads his fingers into the older’s hair. He doesn’t tug, just tightens his fingers. Sylvain’s head parts from Felix’s slender neck now faintly marked and Felix can see his wet lips, they look glossy even with so little light. It makes him crave the mess and the release and Sylvain taking him, taking him and losing himself within his body to feel that comfort and rightness for one more night until it is wrong again.

He loosens his fingers and rapidly undoes the buttons of Sylvain’s remaining clothes. Sylvain clearly can’t hold down his amused smile while Felix yanks the undershirt over his head, knocking dark red waves over his eyes. 

“Shut up.” Felix barks, removing his own last, tight layer before Sylvain can get to it and purposefully slow him down and tease him.

“Needy, hasty Felix.” Sylvain grins and tuts.

“I told you to be quiet.” Felix doesn’t look straight at him, hardly having enough time to take off his pants and underwear before Sylvain dives back down onto his now naked body. He kisses his sternum, finds himself back up at his throat, and each kiss in the trail back down is heady. Wet tongue rolling along each spot that’s lucky enough to meet his lips, Felix closes his eyes. His hands lay limp on either side of his head, he’d never admit that giving his body to another made his stomach flip eagerly, or that this vulnerability will always be for Sylvain alone. Such confessions were inappropriate and selfish at times of war anyways.

They could allow themselves to meet for covert desire.

Sylvain lavishes Felix’s chest. He knows without looking that Sylvain kisses every single scar and more, doesn’t need to see his smile as he tongues a nipple fervently to know that his eyes are alight. He can’t look, if Felix sees him for too long he might not leave in the morning.

He has to remain stern. Has to.

But Sylvain travels fast, Felix only notices once he is steady between his legs and readily places Felix’s slim thighs on his shoulders. Like a man’s first drink out of the desert, Sylvain’s tongue slides between Felix’s lips. The younger can feel how easy the glide is, and knows he must be wet. Embarrassing. But not unexpected. Sylvain hums on his clit and the blatant devotion moves like waves up his body and each fills him with sweet smoke. Sylvain pulls Felix’s lips apart, just a gentle tug, and lets his tongue lie between, so so wet that the sounds are filthy. But Sylvain’s attention is sweet, he grips Felix where ass meets thighs— giving another pleasurable hum— and worries his fingers slowly while his tongue wanders. Though there is still no mistake that he is purposeful, dipping his tongue inside to tease after languidly caressing his clit. It feels like honeyed tea, but is just not enough, no doubt Sylvain’s plan. Felix is not often vocal with Sylvain’s hands on him, but Sylvain’s shrewd sense is sharp enough to read him by his breaths, the way his muscles tense on his shoulders. He could keep his pace this tantalizing for hours. 

Felix watches him carefully, Sylvain’s eyes are shut leisurely and his smile doesn't fade. His dark amber eyes open slowly, just enough for Felix to meet them with his own, and for Sylvain’s smirk to spread wide at Felix’s no doubt flushed face. He bucks his hips into the other’s mouth, but he pulls back just in time to keep the pressure no more than before. Sylvain pulls Felix’s lips up with a careful thumb so his clit is bared, warm breath making his legs shutter. He growls through attempts not to moan, but Sylvain’s lips still hover.

Felix snarls, losing his patience, and grips at the roots of Sylvain’s hair. He pushes down and rolls his hips, crudely riding his face before he can hold him down. The older does not object, he grips Felix over the hips and rolls his tongue with the rhythm. A satisfied breath finally falls from Felix’s mouth as Sylvain shifts posture, his nose leans into his mound and he lets Felix push and pull so his pussy grinds along his tongue. Sylvain’s brows furrow and he groans, his glossy lips close around flushed clit and suck. 

“Fuck.” Felix hisses, gripping tightly.

Sylvain gasps a breath, only when he can’t hold it any longer. Felix’s heels hook and his hips lurch to match the quickening pace of his tongue. It laps him greedily, fighting against contentment’s brevity, if only for the glow to live in their minds. Perhaps until their promise is fulfilled. Sylvain’s tongue flickers between his lips, Felix’s unyielding grip extorts groans that shiver through his legs. Sylvain’s attention is fast, just as unrelenting, but he’s skirting around the edges. He dances around what he _knows_ Felix wants. He can keep riding his face, but he itches for the irreplaceable feel of Sylvain at his core. The leverage is bad, but he pulls harder, Sylvain’s mouth releases with a sloppy sound. He unhooks his legs and yanks Sylvain’s pleased face up to level.

Obstinate.

“Quit fooling around.” The younger spits.

“I would never.” His easy smile is back and he quickly removes his remaining clothes. “Need me badly?”

Felix would not say such so easily. Sylvain falls in for a kiss before he could choose what not to say, getting the taste of himself which brushes any contemplated words away. His nose crinkles, but he’s assuaged by the familiar smell of Sylvain’s skin. It’s that stupid cologne he still wears, worn down after manual work. There’s cinnamon underneath it— warm, woody, something like the sparse places of Gautier manor that they didn’t unspeakingly hate.

“Shut up.”

He does. It feels like Sylvain moves as a part of his own body, the clumsy newness of their intimacy far gone, only remaining in the involuntary clench as Sylvain’s warm cockhead is pressed at his lips. Felix’s eyes are closed as Sylvain rubs his shaft at his clit, a slight pang of apprehension when the head slides down, fitting smoothly inside. He grunts bluntly, Sylvain’s size was nothing to sneeze at; Felix still focuses on steadying breaths as he presses in much too slowly, certainly Sylvain is listening and hesitating due to his every breath. It’s Sylvain’s turn to groan, mixed with an affectionate chuckle as Felix’s body squeezes him, and it sounds so lovely that Felix almost flips them around to ride him to the stars. But Sylvain shifts his weight down, bodies parallel as he bottoms out inside him and there’s no longer any hesitation when Felix wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

Sylvain’s voice drops to a growl, raking his collarbone and throat. “Feels so, so good, Fe. Made for me.”

It’s nonsense, like a drunk man. His breath is hot, so is every inch of his skin. His lips mark him with slow diligence. The flow of his hips picks up, Felix clings for dear sanity, feet hooking around each other behind Sylvain’s hips. He feels intoxicated himself from all the sensation, Sylvain’s size alone makes his head spin, and the way he rolls to meet Felix’s hips with filthy slaps is too much, but perfect. It flushes every thought from his head, he fills instead with that smell of warmth and life. Sylvain’s hands grope his waist, his chest, run along his thighs like they are precious silks. His lips are just as restless— “Fuck, Felix. Fah… fuck,” —kissing, mumbling. It’s a rush to every sense, completely overwhelming, making Felix himself again. Stubborn, sharp. It builds to an ecstasy he’s only felt at the heed of Sylvain’s fingertips. Sylvain, partner, he’s terrified. He grasps at his broad shoulders with the intent to push away.

Till Sylvain rocks his hips slow, heat tingling Felix’s neck and a shiver slides along his spine. He kisses Felix, and as his fingers grip is now taut with possession, he accepts it readily with an open mouth.

Delicate.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my personal dive into Felix's intimacy issues :) chances are high that I will do it again


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